


Let the Weary Rest

by Just Jo (aboxfullofocs)



Series: Shadows of Thievery [2]
Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, in which Basso snaps at Garrett, in which Garrett needs to start letting people help him, it's tied in into other two WIP fanfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboxfullofocs/pseuds/Just%20Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett was sleeping again, vulnerable and close, allowing Basso to see his presence. A silent plea, a reassurance that he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t down there – the basements? the dark place he was last year? or the depths of a dead city?  A reassurance that Basso was close by to shake him awake from whatever nightmares plagued him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Weary Rest

Basso remembered last time Garrett slept that much and it never meant well. Basso remembered last time Garrett allowed himself to let his guard down and be so vulnerable. It was a silent and subtle plea for help. Garrett had stopped asking help a long time ago, when he felt betrayed the first time, when he believed all heartedly that Basso had abandoned him and left him to rot on. The fence did come for him, and did save him, found him all bruised up and broken. But the damage was done, after that day, Basso never saw that snotty arrogant little brat he so well knew, the boy had died and the thief was born and the Master Thief grew. Walls were raised and Garrett put on a mask of confidence and skill, everything controlled, pondered and organized, keeping everyone at bay, all possible outcomes understood, considered and prepared.

He would not be pulled.

He would not be captured.

He would not be surprised.

He would always be ready, in control and prepared.

He was not strong, he was resilient.

Only Basso knew the small quirks, those signs of insecurity and fear Garrett hid behind his eyes, under the hood and mask. That fear of failing, falling, losing control of his emotions, himself, and falling small, weak and vulnerable as he always felt. Those moments Basso turned his back and Garrett would let the mask slip. Those moments the emotions sipped through and Garrett lost his collectedness. Those moments the Master Thief appeared was almost human – a small, weak human.

And while he slept, the small men was visible, the Master Thief was gone and what was left was the small, vulnerable human, not the legend. Last time Garrett slept that long or that close had been back then, after that accident that broke the arrogant child into a distant adult. But that had been so many years ago, and after that day, Garrett never lowered his guard again, his mask, not in front of Basso at least – Basso did pick the mask slip, whenever he peeked over his shoulder, when Garrett believed the fence wasn’t looking. Now, Garrett was sleeping again, vulnerable and close, allowing Basso to see the mask gone. A silent plea, a reassurance that he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t down there – in the basements? the dark place he was last year? or the depths of a dead city? or his own plagued mind?  A reassurance that Basso was close by to shake him awake from whatever nightmares plagued him.

Basso scoffed, he disappeared for an year, letting Basso truly believe he had finally lost his thief – his friend, the closest to family. Then he returned, worst for wear, worn out, drained and tired, pale and unhealthy, with ghosts and shadows dancing behind weary eyes, a ghostly shine through his right eye, a gloom lingering the man’s mind – his face scarred and his mind more. As if the thief hadn’t enough scars. With him came storm and change, as it always did. Basso had learnt to associate Garrett to change. He changed Basso’s life, he changed Stonemarket and he changed the City. And for weeks he left Basso in the dark.

Then he revealed Erin had died in the accident, last year, for that stupid job about a stone. And it had been Erin, it was always Erin. Basso shouldn’t had helped the girl, shouldn’t had allowed her in, shouldn’t had left her ever meet the Master Thief – Garrett was barely capable of dealing with himself, rather less such a volatile girl. Though he technically didn’t throw her so to say. The girl pursued Garrett on her own and the thief did regard her tenacity.

Basso wondered. An older thief taking in a wayward youth to hone their skills. Erin was not without skill, if only she’d listen. Basso had a feeling Garrett was aware Erin had the potential to be even greater than him, but at her age Garrett had already broken down his arrogance and as result, was not as reckless and more skilled. Garrett gained experience quicker, honed his skills quicker, exactly because he lost his arrogance, even if he pretended to hold it still. Erin didn’t, Erin wanted approval but in her own way, Garrett listens and evaluates, Erin doesn’t. But Basso didn’t understood her, he just hoped Garrett did.

The Master Thief had come four nights ago, soaking wet, dirty and broken once more, but with a weight lifted from his shoulders, and a new grim shadow behind his eyes. The thief looked like he had just carried the City. He stood at the entrance of Basso’s office and had only said one thing: “Erin’s alive…”.

He didn’t answer Basso’s questions and instead, asked for his bed, claiming to be too exhausted to make the climb back to the Tower. And Basso knew the signs of exertion.  Pale to a point he nearly appeared grey, skinny like a child, weathered, with dark bangs under his eyes and a dark shadow behind the eerie shine of the now bluish eye, his always raven black hair finally streaked by time, and bruised and wounded, shot and burnt, with gashes large and thick as if a beast at slashed at him. Garrett was far past that, the fence didn’t know how the thief was even standing. Garrett had pushed himself, further: One more step, you’re nearly at Basso’s. He knew it, and he also knew Garrett would never admit it, he would never admit to trusting Basso to help him. But Basso knew the boy long enough, he practically raised him.

Big brother knows best.

A bath, and some food later and Garrett was deep asleep in Basso’s bed around the back of the Burrick. And he slept, he slept for two straight days. His sleep only disturbed by plaguing nightmares from which Basso would sprung him awake, only for the thief to turn around back down and cover himself with an “I’m fine!”.

Of course he was fine!

He was a fine as the City was a week ago – in tumultuous riots and drowned in gloom.

Garrett had arrived once more with a change, as he always did. The clouds had dispersed and for the first time that Summer Basso felt warmth and saw the sun lightning up the City.  The Gloom was gone. Basso couldn’t feel it, couldn’t smell it and the people seemed to note the change, it was going with the wind, and the sunlight. The riots had stopped, there were rumors of Orion having died – Basso knew Garrett and Erin were behind it. And now the main worry was who would lead the City with the Baron dead. Seemed like Harlan was doing that himself though the question about the whereabouts of Vivian, Elias’s wife was now louder than ever.

Yet, the City still felt dying.

Basso had a small idea of what happened by Garrett’s nightmare. Delusioned feverish fits during his sleep. Orion was doing something he should not, it involved Erin, it was killing the City and Erin and Garrett had to go through the depths of the City and shadows and deal with it. Basso sighed. The part that worried Basso the most was the last part of the rambles.

“Wait, Erin!”

The desperate yelp was enough to sprung Basso out of his thoughts as he organized his papers on smaller gigs for his other thieves. The fence turned around and opened the door to the his room.

“Erin! You have to stop… You have to stop, Erin,” there was a pause, Garrett’s tone was disuaded, low and almost concerned. “It’s killing you, Erin.”

Garrett writhed in bed, under the covers, on the effects of a nightmare. Sweat glistened on his face and he had kicked back the covers as if fearing being tangled and trapped. He continued rambling on, his pleas were becoming more frantic and lower to a point he was nearly whyspering and cowering in bed. Then, as Basso got closer, came a yell.

“No! Stop! Erin! Don’t! No! No! I don’t want it! I don’t want this! It’ll kill me! I don’t want to be like them! Erin!...” Silence, more writhing. “Erin! No!”

And it continued. “It huurts!”

He hissed and Basso decided to wake Garrett up, but as he was about to Garrett yelled, as if he was being tortured, twisting in the bed and spranging up in bed, pushing pillows and covers away as he yelled at full lungs. “YOU’RE KILLING ME!”

With a hiss and a yell, Garrett sprang up in bed. There was momentary confusion, then anger as Garrett gritted his teeth, than regret and he looked sideways, brushing the wild black bangs that covered his eyes away. Basso cleared his throat, making his presence known and the thief stiffened in bed, eyes wide for being caught by surprise, for not realizing Basso was there. Slowly, very slowly, Garrett looked at Basso, shielding his expression into that careful and calculating gaze. He pulled his lower lip, as if to moisten dried lips, eyes on Basso. The fence smiled in answer and walked over slowly, pulling a chair.

“Tea?”

Tilting his head, the thief took it, looking at the contents wearily and with suspicion, Basso smiled. “Food?” and he handed out a piece of bread and cheese, stale bread and cheese he had to clean up to be eatable, but with the riot, the City was still not on its feet and Basso was afraid a famine would be a serious problem this coming Winter. Garrett took the bread and grimaced at the cheeze, pushing it away.

“Upset stomach?” Basso asked with a playful grin.

The thief scoffed. “Upset a lot of things,” Garrett answered and set the tea away and bread.

“You need some wine then! Not tea. My father used to say, if you have an upset stomach! Drink a pint of wine, take an apple’s bite and a lady’s arm!”

“If I remember correctly, that was his cure for every ailment,” Garrett retorted with a lifted eyebrow.

“Ye, probably reason why he thought a seagull was a mermaid,” Basso said with a scoff. “Aww, dear father, rest in peace! You were hilarious when you were drunk!” And he pulled his hat holding it against his chest, quickly glancing at the ceiling.

He picked a half smile very, very quickly across Garrett’s lips only to disappear as quickly as the thief looked ahead, clenching his hand over his chest. The weariness remained however, Garrett took deep slow breaths, keeping his eyes distant and his expression closed out to Basso. The fence sighed and got up, walking outside, only to return with wine and two glasses. The thief didn’t particularly keep his eyes on him, keeping his eyes ahead. He had pulled the blankets up, covering his legs and lower torso, crossed on his lap. When Basso sat down, Garrett looked at him. The fence served the wine, placed the bottle over the nightstand and handed Garrett a glass, taking one for himself. Once again, weary eyes looked at the drink with suspicion.

“Wine on an empty stomach?” Garrett asked and Basso in answer tilted his head to the bread.

The thief sighed and finally grabbed the bread, giving a reluctant bite from it before sipping the wine. The thief furrowed the brow, grimacing, probably finding the wine too strong or too bitter. Garrett was more into sweet things than bitter ones, that also applied to beverages. He wouldn’t drink alcohol unless it was some fancy sweet wine, or a good honeyed whiskey.  

“Did you know you speak when you sleep?” Basso started and Garrett froze.

He stiffened like a statue and set down the bread on his lap, eyes distant, staring at the wall. Then he looked down, before slowly gazing at Basso, brows tilted and eyes narrowed, his lips pursed to a thin line.

“What did Erin do, Garrett?” Basso asked.

“Nothing, silly dreams,” he answered looking away, instinctively, the thief hugged his side with his right hand.

Basso stared at Garrett, his eyes falling on the bandage on Garrett’s left  side, where Basso had treated four gashes that appeared done by some sort of large clawed animal. “Was that her? Or something else? Or something related to her…?”

Garrett looked at Basso, then at his own wound, finally removing his hand from there. He remained silent and Basso sighed. He got up, walking to the bed and sitting on it, Garrett scooted away startled at that, as Basso crossed his arms, looking away with eyes closed as if deep in thought.

“Did you know that I still have the clock?” Basso asked.

The thief narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. Basso left the awkward silence stretch out, he wanted to hear a reaction from Garrett, either confusion or realization.

“W-what clock?” Garrett asked, his voice wavering. He knew what clock.

“The one Jenni brought me… when she was still alive. Stupid bird, couldn’t take me back to where she found it! I had to go the jeweler to find the owner and his place, where your tiny arse was all bundled up beaten and bleeding!”

Garrett left go of an “oh” and looked away, but Basso continued, causing the thief to become even more stiff in the bed.

“Kids,” Basso rolled his eyes and looked at his friend. “Aye, never sold it, never fixed it, never cleaned it. It’s rusty and worthless now, and the blood stain does detour buyers. But I keep it.”

And he waited out. The thief this time didn’t grace him with a reaction. His eyes were downcast on his lap, his eyelashes and the smeared khol casting a dark shadow over his eyes. He was breathing quicker now, his breath wavering, not entirely in panic, but anxious. Basso left out a sad smile, as Garrett always dealt badly with a surge of emotions and his stiff posture, the way he hugged his abdomen, as if he was closing over himself.

“You know why I keep that dreadful thing?” Basso asked and he carefully placed his hand over Garrett’s.

At it the thief nearly jumped off the bed, but Basso held the hand in his grasp. Garrett stared at the fence, eyes wide and weary. With harsh caring eyes, Basso looked at the man as if saying that he was not going anywhere.

“I keep it to remind myself that you need help sometimes,” Basso explained, Garrett narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand, but Basso grasped it. “Garrett! You stubborn block! You need help sometimes!”

“I’m fine, Basso!” Garrett retorted, breath laboured, eyes wide and weary. He pulled his hand again and this time Basso left go.

“No, you’re not!” Basso snapped causing the thief to move back surprised. “I know you Garrett! I’m the guy who raised your tiny arse! Remember? I’m the guy who got your hand out of a watchman’s pocket before he cut it off! I’m the guy who taught you how to pick locks and pick pockets without making noise! I’m the guy who found you a home! I’m the guy who’s cleaned up your snot and your blood more than once, even when you were trying to get away from me so I couldn’t!”

And he pointed his finger at Garrett’s wide eyes. “And don’t look at me like that! Twice has the Thief-Taker-General dragged me out of my comfy chair to annoy me because of you. And did I rant you out? Did I ever betray you? Never! So throw your suspicion elsewhere! You’re not just a thief Garrett! You’re my thief, my friend and my family.”

And he fell quiet, Garrett still stared at him surprised and he looked away at last, breaking his gaze, eyes downcast again. Basso sighed. “You’re allowed to be human around me. You’re allowed to be weak and vulnerable. That won’t make you less of a good thief. I won’t tell anyone you’re human.”

The silence stretched out after that. Basso now regretted that he had drank his wine so quickly. That all discourse seemed a lot smarter and more powerful in his head, now that the silence remained, he felt stupid for all that. Had he finally pried too far? The fence sighed and he lifted his head looking at the thief. Garrett had pulled his legs closer and hid his face on his knees. Basso didn’t know if it was due to pain, embarrassment or something else. Maybe Basso’s words sank in and as always, Garrett was fighting against whatever emotions were being dugged up. Pushing them back, burying them so the strong, big, bad thief could stay above.

Basso sighed and got up, walking towards the door. Garrett spoke when Garrett wanted, even if sometimes that was never.

“Basso,” Garrett called as he reached the door.

The fence stopped and turned around, waiting. Garrett had lifted his head from his knees and was looking away, avoiding Basso’s glare. He brushed his thin fingers through his wavy bangs, pushing them away from his eyes, staring out into the foot of the bed.

“Erin left me to die,” he said. “I tried to save her from Orion, but there was no need. She snapped out on her own and killed him… And then she turned on me.

Even there Basso could hear the betrayal in Garrett’s voice, his sorrow and anger over it. Basso brushed the nape of neck, eyes on the thief. He saw as Garrett licked his lips, avoiding the fence’s eyes.

“I stopped her, or she would have killed the City,” he continued and touched his side. “And when she fell, I threw her the claw… She survived.”

With a sigh Basso nodded. “And left you behind.”

And then there was anger, Garrett gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, brows pronounced in mixture of rage and sorrow. “Yes, surrounded by freaks and Graven after my neck, in a crumbling ship, facing the water.”

Basso sighed and rubbed his head. “You need more tea..”

“Make that wine…”

When Basso returned however, Garrett was gone. He had left through the window, taken his gear and took the bread, not the once moldy cheese nor the wine. Garrett never took the wine. The tea however, it was also gone. Basso sighed at that, though with a smile, that was as far as Garrett allowed himself to be exposed, the fence had already pried too far and the thief needed to hide, to be out of view, lest Basso would see too far. Lest he saw the little boy, still incapable of dealing with rage, sadness or pain. And that was what he felt now, betrayed. He knew for sure Garrett had made his way back to the Tower and he would see him soon, once he was fully recovered and controlled, for a job. Basso sat down on his bed, taking a sip of the wine, he noticed the discarded bandage on the bed and sighed with concern.Garrett would be back, on his terms.

As much as he denied it, he and Erin had more in common than what either of the two refused to admit.


End file.
